Scenes From an Italian Restaurant
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: Modern AU. CS Valentine 2016. When Emma quite literally runs into Killian Jones, she doesn't realize quite how much her life is about to change. Reviews are more than welcome. *Nominated for Best Multichapter (-50k) in 2016 CSFAs*
1. Chapter 1

_She can kill with a smile  
She can wound with her eyes  
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies  
And she only reveals what she wants you to see  
She hides like a child  
But she's always a woman to me_

Emma was in a foul mood, truly tempestuous. It was a Saturday, and she had been called in to work, early in the morning no less, and on the way in received a voicemail (who leaves voicemails instead of texting these days?!) from fucking _Walsh_. She had been doing fine with the break up, better than fine, actually. In the weeks since their split, Emma had felt relatively at peace with things, knowing that even though she was a little bit hurt by it, he wanted things from their relationship that she just could not give him. So it was better that they end it before they got in too deep, before hearts got broken (especially hers). She had resisted calling or texting, managed to avoid seeing him, until she completely forgot that she was even trying to avoid him. Things were going well, she was healing. Until he called, and she saw his name and that stupid photo of him that she'd set as his contact picture popped up on the screen, and her heart had squeezed viciously in her chest. As she waited impatiently in line for coffee at the Starbucks around the corner from her apartment, she took a deep breath and held the phone up to hear to listen to the message.

 _Hey Emma, I was wondering if I could come pick up some of my stuff. I know I left some things at your apartment, and I'd kind of like them back. If you could just let me know when would be a good time, I'd really -_ *beep*

 _Bastard_ , she thought to herself as she shoved the phone back in her pocket, slightly more aggressively than was strictly necessary. When the barista finally asked for her order, she answered with her usual – large dark roast, black.

She had made it as far as two blocks from the office before her day took another unexpected downswing, this time in the form of a dark haired man rushing around the corner without paying attention. The two of them crashed into each other, and Emma's coffee spilled all over her cream coloured sweater and leggings.

"My apologies, love, I wasn't paying attention," the man said in a fairly heavy accent as his blue eyes assessed the damage.

"Obviously," she muttered, pulling her shirt away from her skin a little as she eyed the coffee stain.

"Allow me to –" he started, but was interrupted.

"Dad, come on, we're going to be late," insisted a boy Emma hadn't noticed before. He looked strikingly like his father, and she guessed he was nine or ten.

"One moment, Henry," he said quickly, before turning his attention back to Emma. "Please, love, is there anything I can do?"

"No," Emma snapped, and she stalked off in the direction of her office, where at least she kept a spare shirt in her desk drawer.

She pushed the door to the agency open and made her way inside, tossing the empty coffee cup into the trash as she walked over to her desk.

"What's so urgent?" she called out to August as she draped her red leather jacket across the back of her chair, pulling off her sweater and tugging on the t-shirt she had stashed.

"Just got word that a wanted con man arrived in the city late last night," her boss answered, walking over and tossing a file onto her desk. "By boat, no less. Very old fashioned." The guy smirked as though unimpressed by their quarry's chosen mode of transportation.

"And this is urgent because…?"

"He's got a reputation for evading being caught," August informed her, sitting down on the edge of her desk. "Rumour has it he set up some underage girl he was dating and let her go to jail for him so he could get away."

Emma's stomach filled with lead unpleasantly. She had a feeling she knew exactly who she was going to be tasked with tracking down. Flipping open the file, she found a blurry photo of someone she recognized all to well – Neal. Just when she thought her day couldn't get any worse.

* * *

Emma left the office ten minutes later determined to take Neal down. When she had run away from her family (no, not _her_ family. The family that had decided to adopt her. She didn't want them. Especially not Lily.) at fifteen, she had taken up with Neal, and he had taught her how to survive on the run, how not to get caught – in short, all the things that made her so very good at catching people now.

As she strode purposefully down the sidewalk, she caught a glimpse of a dark haired man running towards her from across the street, dodging cars that honked angrily, and she felt her eyes roll almost involuntarily.

"Lass!" he called, hurrying to catch up with her, as she determinedly tried to evade him. She finally stopped walking when his fingers wrapped around her bicep gently, and she had every intention of punching him until she turned and saw him nearly doubled over, panting.

"Are you following me?" she asked, suspicious of any stranger that she saw twice in fifteen minutes.

"No!" he cried, looking genuinely offended by the suggestion. "No, I was walking home after I dropped my son off and I saw you and I –"

"And you thought you'd run after me?" Emma finished for him. "So you could do what? Ruin my day some more?"

"No, love, I thought, perhaps, I could try to make it up to you." He flashed her a smile and Emma realized that she was just now realizing how attractive he was. His blue eyes were bright, the kind of colour she had never seen anywhere but the ocean, and he had just the right amount of dark scruff on his face. "Perhaps I could buy you a coffee?"

She felt torn between her usual reservedness and his handsome face, and Emma really wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, she really didn't need to get involved in any way with a guy who had a kid and was probably married, but on the other, her day had been crap and she did sort of feel like having someone to hang out with who wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like Mary Margaret, her "adoptive" sister. The two had met while Emma was doing her time in jail, Mary Margaret a psychology student at the nearby university who volunteered counseling inmates. They hadn't hit it off immediately, Mary Margaret's persistent optimism clashing horrifically with Emma's _screw the world_ attitude, but by the time Emma had been released, they had managed to form a firm friendship. Still, sometimes she was a little too much for Emma, especially when she was having a bad day.

She made a split second decision as she stared into his too-blue eyes.

"Tonight, 8 'o'clock, I'm going to get dinner at Ferrulli's pizza place over on 3rd. Either meet me or don't." She walked away, and maybe she swayed her hips a little more as she did, not that should ever admit it.

* * *

"I don't believe you ever told me your name," he said, sliding into the seat across from her at the pizza place, precisely at 8. Emma wasn't normally someone who was early to things, but she had panicked a little about her decision to meet him, and the only way she could even guarantee that _she_ was going to be there, was if she showed up early.

"Emma Swan," she answered, rather business-like, offering him her hand to shake. He did so, though somewhat awkwardly, and Emma noticed for the first time that his left hand was a prosthetic. "And you are?"

"Killian Jones, m'lady," he grinned with a mock bow in her direction. "Has your day improved since this morning?"

"Actually, yeah," she replied, smiling to herself. She had busted Neal in record time, and earned herself a pretty fat paycheck in reward. "Sorry for being so… well, such a bitch earlier. I wasn't having a great morning."

"I had gathered as much. May I ask why?" Once more, Emma found herself deciding whether or not to indulge this handsome stranger, and all it took was once glance at his earnest blue eyes for her to dive in.

"I got a call from my ex this morning, asking if we could meet so he could get some of his stuff back," she told him, grimacing and downing some more of her beer.

"Exes are the worst," he said, and she nodded in agreement.

"Plus I got called in to work on a Saturday, which always sucks," Emma added as the waiter came and placed a pizza and two plates between them. "Hope you don't mind meatlovers'."

"It's fine, love," Killian answered with a grin as he grabbed a piece from the tray. "So this ex-boyfriend, he broke your heart?"

"More like I broke his," Emma confessed with a sheepish smile. "He wanted serious, a real commitment, and that's just not something I do."

"Why not?"

"I dunno," she squirmed, feeling as though she were in the hot seat. "I've never really had a home or a family before."

"You regret leaving him then?" Killian asked, trying to make sense of why the phone call would distress her.

"Oh, god no," Emma laughed, shaking her head. "No, I just don't like when people from the past come back into my life once I think they're gone."

"It sounds like there's a story there, but I won't pry," he said, and she smiled gratefully.

"Thanks. So what happened to your hand?" It wasn't exactly a tactful question, she knew, but Emma was feeling rather vulnerable after sharing so much, and she needed something in return to feel more comfortable.

"Ah, that. An unpleasant encounter with a rather disagreeable fellow," he joked, but Emma gave him a playful glare that clearly said he wasn't going to get off that easily. "Rather vengeful bloke discovered that I had… had a dalliance with his wife. Didn't take it to kindly."

"So he cut your hand off?" she replied, incredulous. "What is this, medieval times?"

"Not quite, love," Killian answered with a chuckle. "He drove a steak knife through my wrist. They tried to save it but, alas, an infection decided otherwise."

"Was this your kid's mom?" Emma asked quietly, wary of pushing too far. She was seldom worried about anyone's walls but her own, but she could just tell that he had as much reason to be guarded as she did, and she didn't want to push too far.

"No, that wasn't Milah," he said tightly. "She came later."

"And are you still…?" she let her question drift off, not sure where she was with it. Together? Married? In love with her?

"No, she died, rather a long time ago," Killian answered with a sad sort of smile, the kind when you think about someone you used to love very much.

"What happened there?" Emma asked, curious about the expression on his face.

"It's a bit of a fairytale story, actually." He looked up at her with sad blue eyes and Emma felt something in her heart squeeze. "She found me in a bar, turned me into an honest man, gave me Henry, and then died when he was a little less than two. Pneumonia."

"You weren't an honest man before?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him. Surely his past couldn't be more dishonest than hers.

"I was… I was a man who took great pleasure in finding pretty women at bars and seducing them," he said, looking rather uncomfortable.

"But not since Milah?" she clarified, half teasing him.

"No, not since Milah," he smiled. "Well, not since Henry, really. It was for him that I really got my act together, stopped being irresponsible. Speaking of Henry, I should probably be getting home to him in the near future. I promised him an episode of Doctor Who before bed."

"Funny, you don't strike me as the Doctor Who type," she grinned, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet.

"Believe me, I'm not," Killian laughed as he gave her an exasperated look, "but he loves it, and we all do crazy things for our kids."

They left the shop together, ambling down the sidewalk together slowly. He hadn't asked to walk her home, and she didn't know if they just happened to be going in the same direction or if he was intentionally following her, but she didn't mind either way, content to keep joking lightly as they walked. He programmed his number into her phone rather than asking for hers, telling her to text him if she ever wanted to take him up on the coffee offer, and she thought privately to herself that she just might. She stopped outside her building and he followed suit, turning to face her with a big, goofy grin on his face that she found almost irresistible.

"This is me," she said pointlessly, and he smiled wider.

"Right, well, I'm just a few blocks further then," Killian answered, shuffling an inch closer.

"I guess I'll see you around then, Killian," she replied, smiling mischievously.

"Perhaps for coffee," he quipped and they both laughed a bit.

Killian leaned forward ever-so-slightly, and every reservation Emma had had about meeting with him flooded through her mind all at once, and she stepped back from him. He played it off casually, rocking back and forth on his heels for a moment, before turning away.

"Night, Swan," he said with a final glance, and then he rounded the corner, and Emma climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment and shut the door, leaning her back against in for a moment and closing her eyes. What a day.

* * *

 _Notes: The title is a reference to Billy Joel's song by the same title. Every chapter is not going to contain scenes set in Italian restaurant. It'd be clever if I did that, but I didn't. Alternate title was "It Just May Be A Lunatic You're Looking For", but that seemed too long._  
 _The lyrics at the beginning are from Billy Joel's Always A Woman._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: This chapter is a bit, well, it's not my favorite, but it kind of establishes things so that I can do more with the next chapters, which I'm really excited for. That being said, I hope it's not too bad.**_

* * *

 _You were lonely and you needed a friend  
And he was there at the right time with the right smile  
Just a shoulder to lean on  
Someone to tell you it'll all work out alright_

 _Don't let him steal your heart away  
No, don't let him steal your heart away_

For the next week, Emma kept having the same dream every night, something that had never happened to her before. She dreamt she was a princess in some far away land, at ball in a red gown that made her feel as though she was the center of attention, and Killian was her prince, taking her hand and escorting her around the dance floor in a most gentlemanly way, surprising her with his waltzing prowess. Why she was having the dream was beyond her, she had never been much for princesses. When she consulted Mary Margaret about it, Emma's friend gushed about being in love, which made her scoff and roll her eyes so hard, she thought that for once the old adage might be true – they just might roll right out of her head. Still, she could take a hint from her subconscious, so after a week, she decided to text Killian, asking him if he was still up for a coffee.

That was how she ended up sitting in her local Starbucks, hand wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, tapping her heel on the floor as she waited anxiously for Killian to arrive. It was nearly fifteen minutes past the time they had agree upon, and Emma, feeling stupid, embarrassed, and highly annoyed, was getting ready to leave, when a very harassed looking Killian rushed in, hurrying over to her.

"I'm so sorry, love," he gushed immediately, the look of apology sincere in his eyes. "Henry was just… he was being difficult this morning, didn't want to go to football – er, soccer – practice."

"That's alright," Emma answered, immediately forgiving him at the earnest look of concern wrinkling his forehead. "Plans aren't always easy to stick to with a kid, I guess."

"Ah, not exactly, no," he smiled. "Henry is a bit unusual for kids his age, I think. Always with his head in a book or a comic or writing. It's great, he's a bloody brilliant kid, and he's damn talented for a nine year old boy, but I want him to make friends too, so I try to get him to do things like football, sorry, soccer, only some days he puts up a bit of a fight." He shakes his head, grinning to himself. "Sorry, Swan, I don't mean to prattle on about the boy."

"No, it's okay!" Emma said with a genuine smile. "It's cute, that you like to talk about him, you're an enthusiastic father."

"Aye," Killian laughed lightly. "So, love, how was your week?"

"It was fine," Emma shrugged, sipping on her coffee. "Actually, it was kind of weird. I keep having a dream about being a princess, which is just not me at all, and I've never really had recurring dreams either, so it's a little strange."

"Perhaps it means that you feel like you deserve better than you've gotten," he answered with a pensive look on his face, and Emma stared back at him, surprised by the spot on assessment of her feelings.

"That is, actually, not bad," she replied, and he smiled in return.

"Any particular reasons for these sentiments this week, love?" he asked her, and she got the sense that he genuinely cared.

"Well," she started, somewhat anxious about sharing, "I had the privilege of catching a con man who… well, I've been hoping for a chance to get him for years. I guess it brought up some old memories though." Not to mention you just might be the 'better' I'm looking for, a small voice said in the recesses of Emma's mind.

"What did he do, if you don't mind my asking?"

Emma hesitated. She had never willingly divulged the story of her and Neal to anyone before – Mary Margaret knew because she had met Emma when it happened, and August knew because it was how she got her job, but she had never told anyone else, not even Walsh.

"When I was fifteen, I ran away from the family that had decided to adopt me before they could go through with it. After a couple months I found Neal while I was trying to steal a car," she winced, hearing just how awful this made her sound, "and we kind of, got together. It seemed easier to get by with both of us than to make it on our own. I fell for him, hard, and I thought he felt the same way, but like a year later, he framed me for a crime he'd committed. Set me up to take the fall, and while they were arresting me, he skipped town. I spent a year in jail, got out when I was 18 and was on my own. If it hadn't been for Mary Margaret, I probably would have resorted to a life of crime again."

"What an ass," Killian said suddenly at the end of her story, his blue eyes darkened with anger. "What an absolute bastard."

The stormy look on his face made Emma laugh lightly, amused by how seriously he was taking something that had happened to someone he barely knew, years before they had even met.

"Killian, it's fine, it was a long time ago," Emma told him, placing her arm on his wrist in what she hoped was a pacifying gesture.

"I'd still like to… I don't know, punch him," Killian said, his expression easing as he gave her a somewhat strained smile.

"It doesn't bother you?" Emma asked cautiously, pulling her hand away, as her insecurities took hold. "That I've been in jail? That I was a criminal?"

"No," he answered, and she could see all his previous irritation melt into concern for her. "Not at all, Swan."

"Why?" she said simply, unable to fully believe him.

"Because you're not a criminal now," he replied, reaching out and taking her hand. Emma looked at his eyes and the sincerity she saw in them made her heart squeeze. "Even then, you weren't a bad person, Emma, you only did what you had to. That's far more noble than my past."

Emma stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond to his words. Nobody had ever had so much faith in her, except perhaps Mary Margaret, but somehow that was different. Though Mary Margaret had seen the good in Emma from the beginning, she had never been able to understand why Emma had run away, taken up with Neal, become a criminal. She had always wanted to help Emma become the woman Mary Margaret knew she could be, and while Emma was grateful for that, and she had needed it at the time, it could be frustrating that her best friend still viewed her as someone with a checkered past.

"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable," he said quietly, pulling his hand away and sipping on his coffee for something to do.

"No, it's not that," she replied. "It's just not often that people see it that way."

"Well, Swan, I choose to see the best in you," he answered sincerely, and she couldn't help but smile. "Look, love, I have to go get Henry soon, but perhaps I could persuade you to spend the afternoon with us? I'm supposed to be taking him and his friend to the Morgan Museum and I could use another adult to talk to, if you're interested."

It wasn't that she didn't want to spend more time with him, because she did, very much so. But Emma had never been the kind of person to let her walls down and admit her feelings (even to herself), and she was already letting him in so far… but meeting his kid was a different story. If it was just the two of them having coffee or getting dinner, then they were just friends, and she could continue firmly denying that she was dying to know if his lips were as soft as they looked or if he would be the kind of guy to make breakfast the morning after staying over. But if she hangs out with his kid then they'll be more than that, and the kid will ask questions (Killian said he was smart) and it'll be awkward and uncomfortable and she just wasn't ready for it.

"I can't, I promised my friend, Mary Margaret, that I'd help her with some wedding things this afternoon," she said. It wasn't exactly a lie – Mary Margaret had been asking her to help for weeks and she had been skillfully avoiding it for the most part, but she hadn't promised to do anything this particular day. She could see the disappointment in Killian's blue eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt in her stomach, but he replaced the look with one of understanding quickly, and Emma told herself that she had just imagined it.

"I hope not yours," he quipped lightly, and Emma was taken aback momentarily.

"Hmm?"

"The wedding," he clarified, "I just, it was a joke, a rather poor one, I admit."

"Oh, right, no, not my wedding, hers. To David," she sighed, and Killian eyed her curiously.

"What's wrong with David?" he asked.

"Nothing, they're just so…" she shrugged, "in love, I guess. It can be draining."

"Ah, understandable."

When she arrives back at her apartment, Emma finds Mary Margaret curled up on the couch looking at website after website of wedding dresses.

"Emma! How was coffee with Killian?" the bride-to-be asked, sounding very surprised. "I didn't think you'd be back this early."

"It was good, fine," Emma shrugged, not wanting to go into details. "I thought I'd help you out with some of the wedding stuff this afternoon though."

"That bad?" Mary Margaret said, with a sympathetic look toward her friend, and Emma responded with a confused expression. "Oh, come on, Emma, you've been avoiding wedding stuff for weeks now. You must have been really desperate if that was your excuse to leave."

"No, I – coffee was great, Killian's… Killian's great," Emma stammered, surprised at Mary Margaret's perceptiveness. "I just – I felt bad about not helping out more."

"If you say so," Mary Margaret hummed, clearly not believing a word of it. "Come on, help me find a dress."

Emma sat next to her on the couch, critiquing wedding gowns with her friend, trying desperately not to imagine herself in one with Killian by her side. _He's just a friend,_ she told herself adamantly, _just because it seems like he cares, doesn't mean you should fall for him. Don't do it, you'll only get hurt again. Just friends._

* * *

Notes: The lyrics are from Phil Collins' _Don't Let Him Steal Your Heart Away_.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_ _Whew! Midterms are over, so I finally get to keep going with this story for the lovely lenfaz . I like this chapter a lot, so hopefully you do as well! And a little teaser for next chapter: we may get to see Lena's favourite character... ;) Hopefully that'll be up tomorrow night. That's all I've got for you now, so just a big ol' thanks to everyone who's liking and especially everyone who's reblogging and reviewing - y'all are the best. I hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

 _Wise men say  
Only fools rush in  
But I can't help falling in love with you_

Six Saturdays. Emma had spent six straight Saturdays with Killian, interspersed with three Tuesday evenings and a Thursday. He hadn't tried to kiss her again since the first night, and if she were being completely honest, there was a part of her that wished he would. It felt like they were dating, in some respects. She could feel herself falling for him, and every time her heart squeezed in her chest and romantic type feelings started bubbling to the surface of her mind, Emma shoved them down deeper and denied more fiercely what was happening. She could see it in his eyes too, they way he looked at her, like she was special, and it scared the crap out of her. No one had ever looked at her that way before.

Emma pulled on a silky green button down that brought out her eyes and tucked it into a pair of black skinny jeans, finished off with a pair of tan heels, along with some gold jewelry, and looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't help but feel that she shouldn't be putting this much effort into her appearance, and yet she was helpless to stop.

 _It's just dinner,_ she told herself, smoothing her shirt over her stomach.

 _Yes, but it's also the first time he's meeting your friends_ , a niggling voice in the back of her mind countered, making Emma squirm.

Mary Margaret had suggested inviting Killian over for their weekly roommates dinner, since David had started crashing those pretty regularly. She had thought it might make Emma feel less like a third wheel, but really it made her feel like there was a spotlight on her and her budding relationship – _friendship_ , she corrected herself – with him. A knock on the door stole Emma's attention from her clothing conundrum, and she heard Mary Margaret open it.

"Hi!" her friend squealed excitedly, and Emma could only assume that she hugged Killian – Mary Margaret was totally one of those people who hugged strangers.

"You must be Mary Margaret," Emma heard Killian's voice say, and little butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

"I am," her friend answered, presumably ushering Killian in. "Emma will be out in a minute. This is David, my fiancé."

"Nice to meet you," David's voice floated over from where Emma knew he was sitting on the couch. He sounded oddly tense, like he didn't approve of Killian, although Emma thought it was a bit premature to be judging after about thirty seconds.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to her bedroom and walked down the hall, trying to resist the urge to toy nervously with her hair. The sight of him knocked the air out of her lungs as sure as if she'd fallen flat on her back from high up, just as it did every time she saw him lately. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with a blue plaid button down, and Emma couldn't stop the thought that he looked _damn_ good from flitting through her mind.

"Swan," he said, his eyes widening as he took her in. "You look…"

"I know," she answered with a satisfied grin, and he laughed in response. She didn't miss Mary Margaret's I-told-you-so eyebrow raise in David's direction. "Ready to eat?"

"Absolutely," Killian replied, holding out a bottle of wine in his hands for her, and she gladly accepted. "I brought this – I didn't know if I should, but I didn't want to turn up empty handed, and –"

"It's great, Killian, thank you," Mary Margaret smiled, reassuringly brushing his arm as she made her way past him to the table.

"Mary Margaret made lasagna tonight, I hope that's okay," Emma told him, and he smiled broadly.

"I can't wait, I bet it's delicious." Mary Margaret flashed him a pleased smile. "I'm not much of a cook myself, unfortunately."

"I bet that's not true," Mary Margaret assured him, but he chuckled lightly.

"Oh no, it is. You can ask my son, he'll confirm it," he remarked as David doled helpings of the lasagna out onto each of their plates.

"You have a son?" he asked Killian, sounding a touch harsh, and Emma saw Mary Margaret's brows furrow for a second.

"Aye, he's nine, name's Henry," Killian answered, seemingly unfazed.

"So is he with his mother now?" David inquired, sounding all the more like it was an interrogation.

"Well that'd be tough," Emma mumbled, feeling very defensive on Killian's behalf.

"Er, no, she passed away quite a few years ago," Killian replied, and Emma felt mildly better that at least David had the sense to look somewhat abashed. "Mary Margaret, this is really excellent, quite tasty."

"Thank you, Killian," she smiled kindly.

"So, what is it that you do to support your kid?" David asked, again sounding far more accusatory than necessary.

"David!" Mary Margaret gasped, sounding scandalized, and Emma was about fed up with him.

"He's an engineer, thirty-two years old, born in Manchester, served in the Royal Navy, then moved here so he could live closer to his brother, anything else you'd like to know?" she burst out, looking angry, but Killian looked absolutely in awe of her.

David remained quiet, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Mary Margaret resumed the conversation by telling them all about her students and the silly things they'd done and all the holiday cards that they were working on to give to their families. The rest of the meal past uneventfully, and after a while, David even seemed to lighten up, joking with the rest of them. When the plates were empty and everyone had had their fill, Mary Margaret and David moved to the living room to pick out a movie (with assurances to Emma that it wouldn't be too sappy), while Emma made to clean the dishes, and Killian offered to help (though Emma suspected it was more so he wouldn't have to be stuck alone with David).

"Sorry about him," Emma said, nodding in the direction of the living room as she wiped down the plates with a sponge. "He can be a bit… I think he kind of sees me as his little sister, I guess."

"That's alright, Swan, I understand," Killian grinned charmingly in response, taking the plate from her and drying it with a towel. "Allowing a new member into the group can be a daunting prospect."

She laughed and shook her head at his words.

"You don't have to stay for the movie if you don't want, you know," she told him, not wanting him to feel trapped there for the night.

"It's entirely up to you, Swan," he answered, looking over at her with those too-blue eyes. "If you want me to stay then I will, but if you'd prefer I go –"

"No, not at all," she said, before even realizing that she was speaking. "I mean, I'd like for you to stay, but I don't want to hijack your night. I know you've got Henry, and other stuff I'm sure."

"I'm all yours tonight, Emma," he smiled, his eyes gleaming with sincerity.

"Okay then, movie time it is," she replied, shrugging shyly. Her stomach was fluttering again, the thought of sitting next to him on the couch, maybe snuggling close, making her heart beat a little faster.

Killian followed her into the living room, taking the seat next to her on the couch, and Emma was pleased to note that he was a little closer than was strictly necessary for the amount of space they had. Mary Margaret reached over and flicked off the lamp as David hit play, and the opening credits of _Les Miserables_ filled their flatscreen tv.

 _Not the worst thing they could have picked_ , Emma thought to herself, kicking off her shoes and inching closer to Killian so she could pull her feet up onto the couch. He put his arm on the back of the sofa so they could sit side by side more comfortably, and she looked over and smiled warmly at him. She was only mildly embarrassed when she teared up during Fantine's _I Dreamed a Dream_ , but Killian merely pulled her closer in a warm hug. She felt slightly redeemed when she saw him shed a few tears during _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables_ , and she grabbed his hand and squeezed to comfort him the way he had done for her. Emma was surprised to find that she was actually grateful for Mary Margaret's choice of movie – it was telling, which scenes struck each of them hardest, and she felt like she knew him a little better for it. When the final credits rolled, Mary Margaret tugged David to his feet and led him to her bedroom with a meaningful look at Emma and a quick "good night" to Killian, and then it was just the two of them.

"I suppose I should be going," he said quietly, checking his watch and giving a little start when he saw just how late it had gotten.

"I'll walk you out," Emma answered, unfolding her legs and standing as he did the same.

They reached the door all too quickly, and Emma felt at a loss for words. Should she hug him? Or just wait to see what he did? What should she say? It was the awkward kind of situation that ensued when you didn't know quite whether you stood in friends or more-than-friends territory with someone.

"Thank you, love, for having me over tonight," Killian said quietly as she held the door open for him. "I had quite a nice time."

"I'm glad," she answered, leaning more casually than she felt against the doorframe.

He smiled warmly, the white paint of the hallway a stark contrast against his dark hair and bright blue eyes. He had just turned away when Emma made up her mind.

"Killian," she almost whispered, but he turned back to her immediately, and before he knew it, she had grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, her lips crashing against his. It took him only a second to react, and then his hand was in her hair, tangling in the long locks and keeping her close. His other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, and she was almost tempted to tell him to come back inside. As she pulled away a little, he chased her lips, and the movement made her smile widely.

"Emma," he sighed, his thumb tracing her jawline as they breathed the same air, before carefully fitting his lips back on hers.

He tasted amazing, like being out at sea with the sun glistening off the water and a light breeze whipping at your hair, and Emma didn't think she could ever get enough of it. She moved her hand along his neck and into his hair, holding him to her, not wanting the moment to end. When she finally had to break away, she couldn't keep the smile from her face, nor did she want to try, as she took a step backward and toward her apartment.

"Goodnight Killian," she said, feeling blissful and happy and a little bit smug as he stood there looking awestruck and completely dumbfounded.

"Goodnight Swan," he answered, smiling at her like she had just turned his life upside down.

She stepped back inside her apartment and closed the door, leaning up against it for a second and running her fingertips over her lips, where his kiss lingered like a bruise. She had no idea he stood on the other side, doing exactly the same thing.

* * *

The lyrics are from Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Okay, here's the next installment! This is set about ¾ weeks after the last chapter, around New Years'. It's a bit on the long side, which is why it took my so a little longer to get it done, but I'm really satisfied with it, and I hope you guys all like it. I got to bring in a couple more characters this time, which is always fun. And I know how much lenfaz loves Liam and the Jones Brothers, so I made sure there was an ample amount of brotherly teasing and happiness for Liam._**

* * *

 _Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm  
And your cheeks so soft  
There is nothing for me but to love you  
And the way you look tonight_

"Mary Margaret!" Emma called out from her bedroom, pulling out every pair of earrings she owned from her jewelry box.

"Yes?" a brunette face poked around the doorframe.

"Can you help me pick out some earrings to wear with this?" Emma said, indicating the pile of jewelry now arrayed on her dresser. "I can't decide."

"I like this dress," Mary Margaret responded, moving over to the dresser and filtering through the pile of earrings. She looked over at Emma, clad in a floor length, one shoulder silver dress, with a slit running high on one leg. "I bet Killian will, too," she teased, and Emma felt her cheeks flush bright red. "Here, try these." She handed Emma a pair of delicate diamond teardrops, and Emma smiled as she put them on.

"Thanks," she answered, slipping her feet into her silver heels.

"It's nice that Killian asked you to go with him to his brother's party," Mary Margaret remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Emma answered, toying with a strand of her hair that had come loose and internally debating whether or not to fix it or let it stay loose.

"You seem nervous," Mary Margaret responded, fixing Emma with a perceptive stare.

"Well, it's just… it's a big deal, isn't it? Meeting his brother?" Emma explained, hoping her friend could ease the butterflies that were filling her stomach.

"I don't think it will be that big a deal," Mary Margaret assured her, "you probably won't even have to talk to his brother that much. I'm sure he'll be busy chatting with everyone."

"Yeah, you're right," Emma said, smiling a touch insincerely.

A knock on the door made her stomach drop, and Emma made her way into the front hall. She took a deep breath before opening the door, but the sight of Killian on the other side made most of her nerves evaporated with one glance at his bright blue eyes.

"Emma, gods, you look beautiful," he said, but he could barely tear his eyes away from her face long enough to take in the dress.

"Thank you, Killian," she smiled, moving in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You sure clean up nicely."

"Thank you, love. Shall we?" He offered her his arm to take. "Henry's waiting in the car for us."

"Let's go," she answered, looping her arm through his and grabbing her clutch from the end table in the hall where it had been sitting.

She shut the door behind her with a quick call goodbye to Mary Margaret, and walked arm in arm with Killian down the stairs and out to where his car was parked. She could see Henry sitting in the backseat, eyes glued to the pages of a book, as usual.

"Hey kid," she said cheerfully, as she sat in the door, Killian holding the door open for her and making sure that none of her dress was hanging out.

"Hi Emma," he responded, looking up only briefly. "You look nice."

"Thanks, you look pretty handsome yourself." The boy smiled proudly in response before looking over at his father, who had just gotten in the driver's seat.

"Dad, how long is it going to take to get to Uncle Liam's party?"

"It's in New Jersey, so perhaps an hour, hopefully less," Killian replied, putting the car in drive and reaching over to take Emma's hand.

"Are you two gonna be gross the whole night?" Henry questioned, scrunching up his face, and Emma felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Damn right," Killian chuckled, pressed a kiss to the back of Emma's hand as he continued driving.

"Do you think Violet will be there?" Henry asked hopefully.

"Who's Violet?" Emma inquired, turning around to look at Henry.

"No one," he said quickly, his round cheeks flushing. "Well, not no one, she's my Auntie Elsa's friend's daughter. We're the same age."

"I see," Emma answered thoughtfully. "And you like her?"

Henry shrugged, looking back at his book. "We're friends."

"Do you have any other friends who'll be there?" she asked.

"Well, Grace will be there, she's my cousin. Maybe Nick and Ava too."

"That sounds like fun!" She turned her attention back to Killian. "Can you go over names with me again?"

"Sure, love," he answered, squeezing her hand. "Liam is my brother, Elsa is his wife, Grace is their daughter. Anna is Elsa's sister, and her fiancé is Kristoff."

"So who's idea was the party?" Emma asked, feeling nervous again.

"That would be Liam. Elsa isn't much for parties, but Liam can be a bit of a socialite," Killian laughed.

They pulled up to a grand looking restaurant with a pavilion overlooking the Manhattan skyline, and Killian put the car in park, stepping out to open the door for Emma. Henry had bolted out of the car the moment it had stopped moving, bounding ahead of them to look for his cousin and friends. Killian took Emma's hand as they walked inside, and while Emma was looking around at the beautiful foyer, his eyes were on her, and her only.

"Brother!" a deep voice called out, and Emma turned to see who she assumed was Liam striding towards them.

He looked like Killian, with the same blue eyes and the same mouth and the same nose. Where Killian's hair was dark and straight and perfectly messy, Liam's was sandy coloured and curly, and Emma imagined he was the type to always have it neatly coiffed. He had less scruff than Killian too, but Emma could tell that it would have been only a touch lighter than his if it were grown out, with the same touch of ginger colouring it. A slim woman with white blonde hair followed him, in an ice blue gown that glittered in the light. Her face looked severe, like someone who ought not be crossed, but Emma could tell from her eyes (which were as blue as her dress) that she was much softer and kinder than she looked.

"Liam," Killian said warmly, hugging his brother. "Allow me to introduce Emma."

"She's even lovelier than you described," Liam quipped, taking Emma's hand and pressing a quick kiss to the back as he gave her a small bow, and her cheeks flushed pink again. "Emma, this is my wife, Elsa." The other woman extended her hand, and Emma shook it, the two of them giving each other matching smiles.

"God, you two look like you could be sisters," Killian remarked casually, and they all laughed lightly.

"Perhaps they will be someday," Liam added, giving his brother a sly wink, and Killian blanched as he looked over at Emma, trying to gauge her reaction to his brother's implications.

"Emma, would you like a drink?" Elsa interrupted, looping her arm through Emma's. "We can give the boys some time to catch up without us."

"Sure," Emma answered, looking nervously over her shoulder as they walked away from Killian and Liam.

"Sorry about my husband," Elsa said quietly, giving Emma a sympathetic smile. "He can be a little enthusiastic, especially when it comes to Killian, and he sometimes says things that make others a bit uncomfortable. He means well though."

"How did you –" Emma started, thinking she had hid the panic Liam's comment had induced better than that.

"I know a fellow orphan when I see one," Elsa whispered. "And I remember how scary the idea of family was for a while. When you go without for so long, the prospect of suddenly having it is a bit overwhelming. At least I had Anna though, I'm guessing you didn't."

"No, I was alone," Emma answered, and Elsa nodded.

"If you ever need someone who, well, sort of understands, you can talk to me," she offered, and Emma gave her a genuine smile. She wasn't sure she would ever take her up on the offer – she wasn't much of a talker – but she appreciated it all the same.

"So I hear you have a daughter?" Emma said, looking around the room for any kids. She saw Henry over in the corner, talking animatedly as a group of other children sat staring at him attentively.

"Grace," Elsa smiled, looking over to where the kids were sitting. "She's the blonde one, next to Henry."

"I should have guessed," Emma laughed, "she looks just like you."

They reached the bar and grabbed glasses of wine for both of them, talking about Henry and Grace. Emma surprised herself with how much she knew about Henry already, and how much she sounded like a – not mother, but a mother like figure. Not long after, she felt an arm snake around her waist and turned to see Killian smiling at her, holding a drink of his own in his hands.

"Hi, beautiful," he grinned, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her head, making her smile.

"I see you've finally replaced my sister," hissed a new voice, and Emma felt Killian tense beside her.

"Nobody's replacing anyone," he said through gritted teeth, not turning around.

"That's not how it looks from here," the newcomer continued, and Killian whirled around to face her. She was about the same height as Emma, but in all other respects, the complete opposite. She had short black hair and dark eyes that glinted as though she were constantly on the verge of issuing a scathing remark. She wore a long black dress accented with red, and unlike Elsa, this woman's severity seemed like an underestimation of her personality.

"Regina, this is Emma," Killian stated with a very fake smile.

"Pleasure," Regina spat out, looking Emma up and down as though she were some kind of vermin. With a withering look at Killian and Emma, she stalked off to where a much friendlier looking man sat with a little boy.

"I cannot believe you invited her," Killian seethed, whirling on Liam.

"She's Henry's aunt!" Liam exclaimed, trying his best to look innocent. "And I thought she might be better now that she and Robin are married…"

"Ah yes, clearly he's done a great deal to dispel her vile nature," Killian retorted sarcastically, downing the rest of his drink with a heavy sigh.

"Sorry, who is this woman?" Emma asked, looking between the three of them. "And why does she hate me so much?"

"Regina," Killian explained, sounding both tired and annoyed, "is Milah's sister. And she would vastly prefer that I spend the rest of my days as a widower pining for my wife. She never exactly liked me."

"Ah," Emma said, unsure how to respond.

"I apologize, Swan," he replied, shooting his brother a pointed glare. "If I had known…"

"Sorry I didn't run the entire guest list by you, brother," Liam answered snidely, and Elsa rolled her eyes at the two of them.

"Okay boys, that's enough," she interrupted, before they could really start fighting. "I think Emma can handle one grouchy sister-in-law. Now can we drop it? This is supposed to be a fun night."

"As the lady commands," Liam responded, the teasing edge to his voice back as he inclined his head towards his wife.

Killian huffed loudly, and Emma turned to face him, so she was blocking him from the other two, her hand cradling his cheek as his eyes focused only on her.

"It's really okay," she told him, her voice like a soothing balm to him. "Don't let it ruin our night, alright?"

"Aye, love," he answered, dipping his head to kiss her, and she could feel him smile against her lips.

"My god, brother, that's no way to kiss a woman," Liam joked from behind Emma. She turned in Killian's arms to see Liam, while Killian raised an eyebrow at his brother's antics. " _This_ is how you do it!"

Liam gathered Elsa in his arms and dipped her as he pressed a kiss to her lips, both of them smiling happily. Emma giggled into Killian's chest as he tried to appear more irritated than he was, but she knew that he was amused.

"Swan, would you care to get away from my idiot brother and have a dance with me?" he asked abruptly, and it was only the questioning look in his bright blue eyes that betrayed the confident bravado he was putting on.

"I would love to," she smiled, and she thought that however much she might hate dancing, it was worth it to see his grin as he escorted her to the dance floor.

The band was playing a waltz or something similar, Emma wasn't exactly up to date on her courtly dances, and as she stepped onto the parquet, Killian took her hand confidently. She was quite surprised to see that he knew precisely what he was doing, leading her flawlessly through the steps as they spun around the room. There were a few other couples in the room, but Emma's focus was entirely on Killian, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The music slowed, and Killian pulled her close in a smooth transition from waltzing to slow dancing, her hand on his prosthetic clutched close to his chest, his other arm wrapped around her waist. They swayed to and fro together, taking small steps this way and that, and Emma was feeling a little light headed from his proximity. She could feel him along every inch of her body, little sparks lighting her skin where they touched, and she could smell his cologne – god, how did he smell so good – and she was breathing his air, and she couldn't quite get the feel of his lips on hers out of her mind.

"Alright there, Swan?" he asked, alerted by her rapid heartbeat or heavy breathing, or maybe the look in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Yeah, I just –" she started to answer, but she didn't have any words to finish the sentence.

He pressed his lips to hers again, saving her the trouble of trying to come up with any, which was good, since all ability to think fled the moment he kissed her. She could have stayed like that all night, but he pulled away slightly, his eyes filled with emotion as he looked at her.

"Emma, I –" he whispered, but she interrupted.

"I know." She wasn't ready to hear what he was going to say, those words that would make everything real, those words that always filled her with a feeling of anxiety. She definitely wasn't ready to say them, but it didn't mean she didn't feel them. "Me too, Killian."

He smiled, blue eyes sparkling, and kissed her again, as if to tell her that he understood if she wasn't ready to say it yet, or hear it, as long as she felt it, and as long as they both knew. She deepened the kiss and the whole room melted away around them.

* * *

Killian carried Henry, who had fallen fast asleep some time earlier, out to the car, while Emma walked behind him with Elsa and Liam.

"I'm so glad Killian brought you tonight," Elsa said, giving Emma a hug while Killian struggled to get Henry into the back seat of the car.

"Agreed," Liam added, offering Emma a warm smile in lieu of a hug, since he was carrying his own sleeping child. "I don't know how he's convinced you that you're not way out of his league, but I'm glad he has. You make him smile more than I've seen anyone do since Milah died."

"It's true," Elsa responded. "He seems happy with you."

"Well, he makes me pretty happy too," Emma answered, her cheeks turning scarlet with embarrassment. "Thank you for having me tonight, it was a really nice party."

"Of course," Elsa replied. "You're always welcome with us."

"I think we can all agree that we hope to see you again soon," Liam continued, and Emma smiled.

"Right, managed to get Henry settled," Killian said as he joined them, his hand resting lighting on the small of Emma's back. "Elsa, it was good to see you." He gave his sister-in-law a quick hug before turning to his brother.

"Little brother, I'm going to be quite honest," Liam teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. "If you and Emma don't work out, I vote we keep her in the family instead of you."

"Fine with me," Killian answered without missing a beat. "I've been trying to be free of you for ages now."

The two men laughed as they hugged, a little awkwardly around the sleeping Grace, and they all waved a final goodbye to each other as Emma and Killian got in the car. As they drove through the dark streets, Emma stared out the window, sleepily replaying each moment of what was a pretty perfect night.

"I'll drop you off at home then?" Killian said quietly after some time.

"Mmm," Emma agreed without looking over. "Where else would you drop me off?"

"Well," he answered, nervously scratching behind his ear, "you could always stay with me. If you wanted to, that is."

"Henry wouldn't mind?" she asked, regarding him carefully.

"Look at him," Killian joked, nodding toward the back seat, where Henry was sprawled out, snoring lightly. "I don't think he's in much of a condition to mind anything right now."

"But in the morning," she continued, still watching Killian closely. "It wouldn't be weird for him?"

"I hardly think he'd be surprised," he said seriously. "Emma, if you don't want to… it was just a thought."

"Okay," she answered, thinking that it might be nice to spend the night with him.

"Okay?" he repeated, unsure whether or not he was hearing her right.

"Okay." She smiled shyly at him, and was rewarded with a look like she had lit up his entire life, and she couldn't help but think about those words that she didn't want to say yet. No matter how much she didn't want to say them, god did she feel them.

* * *

Notes: lyrics from Frank Sinatra's The Way You Look Tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Wow, I halfway there! This story has gotten a lot of views in the short time I've been posting (1500+ on and almost 1000 on ao3), and that's really great, and awesome, and I love all of you so much. Big thank yous to everyone who's been sharing the story and leaving feedback, y'all are the best._

 _This takes place an unspecified amount of time after Chapter 4 - you can decide how fast you want their relationship to progress, whether this is a few days, a few weeks, or a few months later. Reader's choice. Otherwise, enjoy, and sorry that its a rather short chapter, but the next one is going to be pretty long again I think._

* * *

 _What will it take 'till you believe in me_  
 _The way that I believe in you._

 _I said I love you and that's forever_  
 _And this I promise from my heart_  
 _I couldn't love you any better_  
 _I love you just the way you are._

Killian sat down on the couch after putting Henry to bed for the night, and Emma immediately curled into him, tucking her head into his chest and lifting her bare feet up onto the couch. He flipped through their options on Netflix and after some debate, they settled on watching Finding Neverland. Every time they did this, it surprised Emma just how comfortable she felt with him, and even with Henry. Their relationship was easy, full of affection with hardly any conflict, and it was by far the best - and healthiest - relationship she had ever had. Which is perhaps why she started to question it so much. He was too good for her, she didn't deserve him, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why he was so taken with her. But for once, Emma was trying not to ruin this good thing that had come into her life, and each time these thoughts of inadequacy appeared, she pushed them deeper into the recesses of her mind.

Tonight, however, she was feeling particularly vulnerable, and each time she felt insecure, she snuggled closer to him and clung tighter, hoping that the feeling of him reciprocating would ease her turbulent emotions. She wasn't normally so attached to him, however, so naturally Killian picked up on her desire not to be parted from him even for a moment.

"Emma, love, is everything alright?" he asked her as she buried her face in his shirt, breathing deep.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, looking back at the tv and trying to pay attention.

"You don't seem fine," Killian answered, and she looked up to see him regarding her with such concern it made her feel a little choked up and teary. "If there's something wrong, please tell me. Have I done something?"

He seemed so earnest in his concern for her that her heart squeezed uncomfortably and the tears she was attempting to hold back started to slip down her cheeks.

"You haven't done anything, Killian," she whispered into his shirt, "except be completely perfect."

"Then what is it?" he replied, only the faintest hint of a smile gracing his face at her words.

"I just don't deserve it," Emma answered, more quietly than before, and there was a pause while he tried to take in her words.

"Emma..." he started, but she barreled on, unable to stop now that she had begun. "You're so wonderful and so perfect and so good to me, and I don't deserve any of it," she said, unable to look at him. "I'm not good, Killian, I've done so many things that aren't good and you and Henry deserve so much more than me."

"What on earth makes you say that you aren't good, love?" he asked, his voice coloured with apprehension.

"I have so many issues, Killian - I'm closed off, and untrusting, and I'm bad at telling people how I feel. God, I can't even tell you how much I love you, even though I hate that I can't," she took a breath and continued. "But you don't deserve someone who's been in jail, and you don't deserve someone who was an orphan that nobody wanted except a family that was even more screwed up than she was. You don't deserve someone who yelled at a stranger for spilling coffee on her, or someone who was so afraid to admit their feelings for you that they pushed you away. You and Henry deserve someone perfect, someone nice, without a shitty past, who can be a good role model for him and who isn't broken."

"Emma, stop," he said firmly, turning to face her and taking both her hands in his. "This is all... Emma, I love you, not some perfect, non-existent woman. I love your flaws, which pale in comparison to all the beautiful things about you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Killian squeezed her hands and she refrained, letting him continue.

"You are stubborn, and a little standoffish, and yes, you see only the worst in yourself," he stated, rubbing his thumbs soothingly across the backs of her hands. "But you are also strong, and caring, smart, sexy, and confident, and you deserve to be loved, Emma, much as you seem to disagree. You are a good person, love, I don't want you to ever think otherwise."

"Killian..." she sighed, scooting closer to him.

"It's my job now, Swan, at least I hope it's my job, to make you feel loved, and to help you see yourself the way I see you," he answered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Mmm," she hummed in response, and he continued peppering her with kisses - trailing them along her jawline, along her cheekbone, on the tip of her nose.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to hers.

He didn't need to hear her say the words back to him, he knew from the way she leaned into him, deepening their kiss, from the way her hands clung to him, one fisted in his shirt and the other weaving through his hair, as though she never wanted to let him go. Even so, it sent a thrilling shock through his mind when he heard them whispered back in the space between kisses.

"I love you too, Killian."

* * *

Notes: lyrics are from Billy Joel's Just the Way You Are.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I'm so sorry, but what fun is a happy ending if there aren't a few bumps along the way?**_

 _And when I hear that whistle blow  
I'll walk away and you won't know  
That I'll be crying_

 _Cause I can't stop loving you_  
 _No I can't stop loving you_

Emma wakes up next Killian more and more frequently after that night, and she generally finds that the feeling of panic is gone, all thoughts about not being _enough_ vanished from her mind. Perhaps it is because he makes it so abundantly clear that she is more than enough for him – the way he has eyes only for her, the way he seems to unrelentingly want to do things for her, be that making dinner or running an errand so she doesn't have to or buying her flowers just because, the way he whispers that he loves her when she least expects it (when they're sitting quietly together on the couch, in the moments before they fall asleep, after they've had a row about what to watch or what to eat). Even Henry seems to have accepted her, occasionally asking her for help with a homework assignment (she's better at math and science, but Killian has her beat in English and history; Henry takes after his dad), or asking her if she'd like to come watch his soccer game (which makes her heart squeeze and her eyes water and of course she agrees). But like all good things, this period of bliss comes to an end.

Emma woke one morning and the sense of panic had returned, this time not that she wasn't good enough, but that she was too far in, too gone for this man and his precious son, too much at risk to get hurt. Because even though he said she was enough for them, said he loved her, no one had ever loved her enough to stay before, and she couldn't believe that this time would be any different. Except, she loved him too, and now she was going to get hurt because she was too deep. She should never have let this happen, she should never have kissed him, she was going to be wrecked when he left. The only solution was for her to leave first.

When she went into work later that day, she made a beeline for August's office, sitting down in the seat across from his as he wrapped up a phone call.

"What's up, Emma?" he asked, setting his phone back on the desk.

"I need to leave," she answered simply.

"Leave the firm?" His eyes widened like saucers.

"No, just New York preferably," she replied, grinning a little at his panic.

"Ah, okay," he flipped through some of the papers on his desk, rifling until he pulled out a small yellow PostIt note with his neat scrawl across it. "Ruby called last week saying she was going to fire Leroy anyway, so I'm sure she wouldn't mind having an extra hand. You could stay there until she finds a replacement, or permanently if Boston is your thing."

"Thanks, August," Emma smiled in relief, standing to leave.

"Hey Em," he called as she reached the door, and she turned around, one hand still on the edge. "Can I ask you why the sudden need to flee New York? Anything to do with the new guy?"

"How did you -?" she started, but August cut across her question.

"You think you're the only one who's good at reading people?" he shook his head, giving her a wry grin as he stepped around the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've changed clothes here more than once lately, you don't eat dinner at your desk anymore, you never come in to the office on weekends unless I ask. I'm not complaining, god knows you deserve to have a life, Emma."

"It's not – it has nothing to do with that," she lied in response, and she could tell he didn't believer her, but August wasn't one to push her, at least not about these things.

"Alright, take the rest of the day off then," he shrugged, grabbing his phone off the desk, "I'll call Ruby and let her know that you'll be there tomorrow, and I'll text you the address of a place you can stay, at least until you can find your own."

She nodded and turned to leave, grabbing her bag off her desk, and pulling her own cell phone out as she walked down the street. Killian would be at work now, she knew, and though she probably should wait to tell him in a better way, Emma just couldn't face it. She quickly hit the 'call' button and held the phone to her ear, waiting for the voicemail to sound.

 _Hello, you've reached Killian Jones. Please leave a message and I shall return your call as soon as possible._

"Hi, Killian, it's Emma," she started, butterflies churning in her stomach. "I, um, I've been transferred to the Boston office, I'm not sure for how long, maybe permanently, and I leave tonight, so I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Say bye to Henry for me."

As she clicked the 'end' button, she felt guilt squirming in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it away and sped home to pack, trying desperately not to think of Killian and Henry, of the hurt look that would grace Killian's face when he listened to the message, of the sad disappointment that would mar Henry's features when Killian told him she left. _It's better to do it now, before your heart gets too broken_ , she kept telling herself, repeating it like a mantra in her head.

* * *

Killian gets out of work at exactly 5:52, much later than usual, but there was a bit of an emergency that needed tending to, and he'd had to stay until it was resolved. He checked his phone for the first time since arriving in the morning, and his heart leapt when he saw a voicemail from Emma. Instantly, his mind was flooded with the possibilities – perhaps she wanted to join them for dinner, or wanted to ask him to go to Mary Margaret and David's wedding with her, or see if perhaps he would want to live with her after Mary Margaret moved out, or… perhaps she just wanted to call to tell him she loved him. His heart did a somersault at the thought. He eagerly tapped the icon and held the phone to his ear, waiting to see what splendid thing she had to share with him that night.

 _Hi, Killian, it's Emma,_ her voice said through the phone, and he could tell immediately that she sounded unhappy. _I, um, I've been transferred to the Boston office, I'm not sure for how long, maybe permanently, and I leave tonight, so I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Say bye to Henry for me._

Killian's heart sank immediately, and he was filled with a feeling he had not experienced since Milah became ill. This could not be right, things had been so… perfect. He replayed the message, but her words did not change. Unwilling to let this go quite so easily, he redirected his steps toward Emma's apartment.

He called Ashley, Henry's babysitter, on the way, to ask if she would mind staying with the lad a bit longer, and perhaps feed him dinner. She was a good kid, a sweet seventeen year old from the high school affiliated with Henry's school, and she had been watching him after school for two years now. When she had come to Killian a few months ago, sobbing because she had found out that she was pregnant, Liam had told Killian that most people would have let her go, but he couldn't do it. She had made some mistakes, sure, but she was trying to make the best of her situation, and Killian couldn't turn his back on her. He had happily told her that he would love for her to continue watching Henry for as long as she was willing and able, and he had been trying lately to find little ways to slip her some extra money (thirty dollars to order a pizza with Henry, keep the change, fifteen for ice cream, forty for the movies, always 'keep the change'; he'd given her fifty out of embarrassment when she found one of Emma's bras in the couch cushions and kept it hidden from Henry) – she would be needing it very soon, after all. Ashley was getting close to the point where she wouldn't be able to take care of Henry anymore, at least not without some additional help, but tonight she was more than happy to stay for a few extra hours and order them some food.

When he arrived in front of Emma's door, Killian hammered loudly, barely able to keep himself from breaking down the door. Mary Margaret appeared on the other side, looking flustered by his unexpected arrival and violent knocking.

"She's not here," Mary Margaret told him with a knowing, sad smile. "She left for the train station already."

"Union, Grand, or Penn?" he asked, but she only looked at him as though she were trying to decide whether or not he was worthy of such information. "Mary Margaret! I need to see her before she leaves! Please, tell me!"

"Penn," she sighed at last, and he took off without another word, scrambling down the stairs and out onto the street, trying to find the closest subway station.

Killian rounded the corner and saw the familiar sign that accompanied a subway entrance, and he took the stairs down two at a time, hurriedly pulling his ticket from his wallet and shoving it into the turnstile. To his relief, the train pulled in as he was bounding onto the platform, and he paid no attention as he pushed people aside to make it on. He tapped his foot impatiently the whole way to Penn Station, and when the train finally came to a stop, he was out the doors before they were even fully open.

Down the stairs, across the station, through a crowd of people, up an escalator, Killian ran without stopping, without caring how ridiculous he looked or how many people flashed him looks of annoyance as he checked them with his shoulder on his way past. An announcement blared to life through the speakers informing travelers that the Amtrak to Boston was boarding on track four, and he felt his legs pump more furiously, spurring him on faster. He had to see her, he had to stop her, he couldn't lose her.

At last, he saw her, long blonde curls bouncing as she walked away from him, dragging a black suitcase behind her, and his heart nearly stopped. She was so beautiful, and he almost forgot for a minute how close he was to never seeing her again.

"Emma!" he called, barreling through the crowds between them. "Emma, wait!"

She turned, her eyes wide in surprise as she saw Killian racing toward her, and he wasn't entirely sure that it was the good kind of surprise he saw in her emerald eyes.

"Killian," she stammered when he finally caught up to her, clutching a stitch in his side. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I -? Emma," he took her hands in his and fixed his blue eyes on hers, "why are you doing this? Why are you running away from me?"

Killian didn't believe for one second that she had just been spontaneously transferred to Boston, and he could tell from the way her shoulders dropped a little as he asked the question that she hadn't really expected him too. But from the panic in her eyes, he could see that she also hadn't been expecting him to call her out on the reality of her departure.

"Killian, I, I just have to go, it's my job," she said weakly, a feeble attempt at maintaining the charade.

"Don't lie to me, Emma, please, we're so far beyond that," he growled, squeezing her hands tighter.

"Killian, I can't," she said, tears springing to her eyes, and he wanted so badly to wipe them away and enfold her in his arms, but she was tugging away from him.

Another announcement declared the impending departure of her train, and she pulled away farther, taking a step away, and his arms fell lamely to his side as he lost his hold on her.

"Please, Emma, don't do this," he pleaded. "Don't go."

"I have to, Killian, I have to go," she answered, and she turned on her heel and walked away briskly, practically running to where her train awaited her.

He stood there for several minutes, tears threatening to overwhelm him as he watched the passengers all around him rush to meet their trains, before finally turning and making his way back to the subway, riding with a sinking feeling in his gut the whole way back to his apartment. He opened the door to his place tiredly, and with one look at his father, Henry could sense something was off, getting up slowly from the dining room table and wrapping his arms tightly around Killian's waist.

* * *

Lyrics are from Phil Collins' _Can't Stop Loving You_.


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: Big thanks to everyone who's been reblogging/commenting/leaving feedback, you guys are the best! Enjoy this next chapter!_**

* * *

 _A tinkling piano in the next apartment  
Those stumblin' words that told you what my heart meant  
A fairground's painted swings  
These foolish things remind me of you_

Killian Jones was not one to pine. Drink lots of rum, perhaps, but that wasn't the same thing as pining. He absolutely did not scowl at every couple he passed on the streets, nor did he stare at Emma's picture on his phone and think about calling her, and he most definitely did not eat all the mint chip ice cream that was in the freezer (that must've been Henry). No, Killian Jones did not pine.

"Have you spoken to her?" Liam asked about a month after Emma's departure.

It had been his idea to have a guys' night – just the two brothers and Henry, hanging out and watching superhero movies, and having a few drinks – with the hope that it might raise Killian's spirits somewhat. It had done nothing of the sort, however. Killian had seemed down when Liam arrived at the apartment, and his mood had only gotten worse. Henry had noticed as well, and while he tried to have a fun time with his uncle, he kept shooting his father worried glances.

"No," Killian answered, taking another sip from his tumbler. "She wanted to get away from me, and I don't think pestering her will change her mind at all."

"Little brother, you are being the most asinine, insufferable, self-pitying idiot I have ever had the misfortune to know," Liam ranted, standing up from his spot on the couch rather abruptly and pacing back and forth across the living room, completely disregarding Captain America still playing in the background. "Emma is the best thing that has ever happened to you, with the exception of Henry, and you are an utter, mad fool if you let her run away because she's scared."

"And if that's not the reason she left?" Killian questioned, eyebrow flying up.

"If you think there's even a remote possibility that she left for any other reason, you are a bigger idiot than I thought," Liam answered, glaring at his brother hard, but Killian shook his head and placed it in his hands, not wanting to think about it anymore.

"Dad," Henry said quietly, placing his small hand on Killian's shoulder, "you have to fight for Emma. She needs to know that you won't give up on her."

"See? Even your nine year old is smart enough to know that, Killian," Liam grinned.

"Fine," Killian sighed, feeling thoroughly harassed. "I'll call her, but I can't promise it'll change anything." He cast a meaningful glance at his son, as though telling the boy not to get his hopes up too high.

"You can't call her!" Henry replied emphatically. "Everyone knows you have to go there and tell her you love her in person! It's in all the movies!"

"Lad…" Killian started, but he was interrupted by his brother.

"The boy's right, Killy," Liam said sternly, clapping Killian on the back. "Come on, we'll all go, turn guys' night into guys' roadtrip to Boston!"

"I don't even know where she lives," he protested weakly, but Liam merely smiled, and Henry's grin practically reached his ears.

"That can be easily resolved," Liam answered, turning to Henry. "Go on, kid, go pack a bag, we're going to Boston!"

"I never said – I didn't – we can't –" Killian stammered as Henry rushed off down the hall to get his things together.

"You too, little brother," Liam grinned. "Go pack some clothes while I give Elsa a call."

"You are so going to pay for this," Killian responded grumpily as he walked down the hall, not feeling quite as irritated as he seemed. Mostly it was a show for Liam and Henry, so that when it all went wrong, he could tell them 'I told you so' and hopefully his heart wouldn't be crumbling as he said it. But in reality, he was nervous, trying desperately not to get his hopes up that this mad plan would work.

"I think not, little brother," Liam called in return. "I'll be saying 'I told you so' at the stag night before you marry the love of your life!"

Forty minutes later, the three of them had loaded bags in the car, and made their way the few blocks to Emma's old apartment, where they stood in the hallway, greeted by Mary Margaret at the door.

"Killian," she said in surprise, "what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had Emma's new address," he answered, hoping she wouldn't give him too much trouble, but it appeared he was out of luck.

"I do, but I'm not sure I can give it to you," she told him, and his face fell.

"Excuse me, Miss -?" Liam interrupted, stepping forward.

"Blanchard," she supplied, her voice coloured by confusion.

"Miss Blanchard," Liam said with a nod, "I'm Killian's older brother, Liam, and the thing is, my little brother here is very much in love with your Emma, and young Henry and I feel that he's giving up on her much too easily. She is far too good for him, and I fear he will never find someone as wonderful as Emma. For her part, Miss Swan could not find someone as loyal and loving as my brother, and it would be a travesty for her to lose the adoration of little Henry here. Not to mention, my wife, Elsa, is quite fond of her, and I believe the two really struck an accord at our New Year's Eve party. We just want to find her, Miss Blanchard, and show Emma that there are people who love her enough to fight for her."

"That was quite the speech," Mary Margaret answered, but she looked at Killian as she spoke. "You love Emma?"

It wasn't really a question so much as a statement, but Killian answered anyway.

"Aye, I would go to the ends of the Earth for her."

"She's staying at 768 Jerome Avenue," she said at last with a sigh, and Killian rushed in to give her a hug before taking off down the hall, Liam and Henry trailing behind.

Five hours, three stops (for food, bathroom, and gas), and twenty-seven "Are we there yet"s later, Killian pulled into the parking lot of a Mariott in Boston, not far from where Emma was living. Liam had advocated for driving straight to her apartment, but Killian was adamant that it would be better to turn up at a more reasonable hour than 1:30am, preferably with a shower and a breakfast to settle his stomach. They climbed into bed, Henry snuggling close to Killian's side and hit the lights.

It was only a matter of moments before Killian could hear Henry's small snores mingling with Liam's bear-like ones, but he was far too agitated to fall asleep. He could feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement making his stomach turn, and try as he might, he was powerless to stop imagining what the next day might hold for him. He pictured a happy reunion on Emma's doorstep, with her immediately pulling him close and kissing him senseless, but the image was soon driven out of his mind by the thought of Emma's angry face, pushing him away and slamming the door on him. The idea made him groan and pull his pillow over his face, as though further plunging himself into darkness might make it go away.

He must have drifted off eventually, because before he knew it, he was waking up to the sound of the tv playing some cartoon or another, Henry bouncing off the walls and Liam trying to shush him.

"Morning, brother," Killian said, stretching his arms above his head and feeling his back pop pleasantly.

"Ready to get a move on?" Liam answered, trying to corral Henry and get him to stop jumping on the bed.

"Emma's not a morning person," he replied, shaking his head as he checked the time on the clock (8:17am). "It'd be best to wait a while."

"Are you sure you aren't procrastinating?" Liam accused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his younger brother.

"I'm positive," he said, not entirely lying, "trust me, you don't want to wake her up too early. I definitely don't want her to be cranky for this."

* * *

Emma heard a knocking on her door and begrudgingly got up from bed to check it out. She had been awake for a while, but as it was Saturday, she was having some difficulty persuading herself that she couldn't stay in bed for the whole day and eat grilled cheese with onion rings. But she padded across the wood floors of the apartment in her flannel pants and tank top, pulling the door open to reveal a surprising visitor.

Killian stood before her, holding a cup of coffee out to her as he smiled shyly – a far cry from his usual confident grin. She felt her jaw drop and her eyes grow wide and her brain fumbled for words to address his sudden appearance, but she found none, instead just staring blankly at him.

"Emma," he sighed, sounding for all the world like seeing her brought him some kind of bliss.

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to get out, crossing her arms over her chest to hold herself together. Seeing him was… it was like taking a cracked vase and tapping it wish a hammer, watching all the pieces vibrate and wondering if this was going to be the time it broke.

"I want to talk to you, Emma," Killian answered, looking at her with such earnestness in his eyes that she thought it might overwhelm her. "I'm not giving up, not that easily."

"Killian, please don't –" she started, but the look on his face stopped her dead in her tracks, and she turned back into her apartment, leaving the door open for him as she walked to the kitchen.

He followed her, glancing around and taking in every detail, not that there was much to see. The walls were a simple beige, decorated with generic paintings that he knew she hadn't picked out herself. Gently, he placed the cup of coffee on the counter of the island in her kitchen, eyeing her as though she were a deer that might spook.

"Emma," he breathed, stepping closer, but not so close that he was in her space. Just close enough that he could reach out to her, if she gave him a sign. "Emma, I don't want to give up on what we have, I _can't_ give up on it. This is something special, and I know you feel the same way, I know that's why you left. I know that you're scared, but isn't being scared good in a way? Isn't that how you know this is real?"

"It doesn't change the fact that if it's real, it means someone could get hurt," he replied, exasperated. "Don't you worry about getting hurt? About Henry getting hurt?"

"I've already been hurt, Emma," he whispered, the look on her face making him wish he hadn't. "You left, and Henry and I survived, albeit much less happily. But Emma, I don't just want to survive, I want to _live_ , and there's a difference, and being without you isn't really living. Neither is this," he gestured around the apartment. "Come home, Emma, please."

"Do you know the only useful thing Neal ever taught me?" she asked him, looking anywhere but as his face. "Other than how to be a fugitive."

"Obviously I do not," he murmured quietly, waiting for her to continue, and feeling slightly more tense at the mention of her scumbag ex-boyfriend.

"He told me that home is the place, when you leave, you just miss it," Emma finished, looking at him with tears in her emerald eyes.

"And you don't miss us, not that way," Killian nodded taking a step backwards.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, and she hugged herself tighter with her arms across her chest as a tear escaped and slid down her cheek.

Killian nodded again as he backed toward the door, pulling it open and stepping outside.

"If you change your mind, Emma," he said, looking at her over his shoulder, "I'm not going anywhere. I don't mind waiting."

He closed the door behind him as he left, and Emma stared at it blankly, wondering what on her she had done to deserve such a wonderfully persistent guy, and why on Earth she was driving him away.


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: At last, a little resolution for ya! Enjoy guys!_**

* * *

 _It always comes as a surprise  
When I feel my withered roots begin to grow  
Well I never had a place that I could call my very own  
That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home_

It didn't take long. Approximately 2 hours, 13 minutes, and 42 agonizing seconds after the door closed behind Killian, Emma found herself dialing Mary Margaret's number, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for her friend to answer.

"Emma, can I call you back in a bit? David and I are just headed to lunch right now…" her voice floated through the phone at last.

"Um," Emma hesitated, knowing that she really needed to talk, but simultaneously not wanting to disrupt her best friend's life.

Sensing her dilemma, Mary Margaret practically grinned through the phone, a cheerful sigh reaching Emma's ears before a muffled "Go ahead, David, I'll meet you there. Just order my usual please."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Emma said, feeling a little sheepish.

"It's alright, Emma," Mary Margaret answered cheerfully. "This is what friends are for. What's bothering you?"

"I think maybe I made a mistake," she replied, and she could hear the _I told you so_ that she knew Mary Margaret was itching to say. "Killian showed up this morning and –"

"This morning? I'm surprised he waited that long," Mary Margaret scoffed, giving Emma pause."

"You knew?" she asked, feeling a little betrayed that her friend wouldn't warn her about something like this, but then it occurred to her. "Of course you knew, you're the one who told him where I was."

"His brother is _very_ charming, Emma," Mary Margaret said, and Emma rolled her eyes hard.

"Don't let David hear you say that," she mumbled, not sure, or caring, whether or not her friend heard her.

"Anyway, you were saying?" the other woman interjected, trying to return them to the purpose of their phone call."

"Oh, right." Emma chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she tried to find the right words. "He came by this morning and he said he didn't want to give up so easily, and he just knew everything, I mean, he said all these things, and he was right about all of them, and how does he know? How does he just _know everything_?" She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"Emma, what did he say?" Mary Margaret questioned, sounding concerned, and Emma immediately understood that she was really asking whether or not he had said anything that hurt her.

"It – he – it was nothing like that," she said quickly. "He just said that I left because I was scared and I didn't want to get hurt and that I should know that the reason I'm scared is because on some level I know that this thing between us, whatever we had, was real, _is_ real, and that we should fight for it, not just give up." She took a breath and waited for her friend to say something, but there was only silence from the other side of the line. "Well? What do I do, Mary Margaret?"

"Emma, I think you know what to do," she replied quietly, continuing with a small sigh. "I don't really even know why we're having this conversation, other than you needing someone to listen while you work things through in your head."

"So… you think I made a mistake coming to Boston?" Emma prompted.

"It doesn't really matter what I think," Mary Margaret answered diplomatically. "It matters whether you think you made a mistake and what you're willing to do to fix it. Although, for the record, yes, I do think you made a mistake."

"How do I fix it?"

"You know how," she said, and Emma toyed with a loose thread in her leggings while she waited for her friend to continue, but she didn't.

"Yeah, I guess so," Emma sighed at last. "Thanks, and sorry for interrupting your lunch with David. Say hi to him for me."

"Of course I will. Call me later if you need," Mary Margaret answered, once again sounding chipper as Emma ended the call.

Emma sat for a moment on the couch, still picking at the same thread, and then suddenly she sprang into action. She grabbed a backpack and stuffed the essentials in – her wallet, her laptop, her toothbrush and some makeup, a clean shirt, and a few other things she thought she might need, and then she quickly ran out of the apartment. The universe seemed to be working in her favor that day, and the T arrived just as she was jogging onto the platform. She pulled out her phone while the subway chugged along, tapping at it until a boarding pass for the next flight to New York was loaded on it and ready to go. She arrived at the airport after not too long, and rushed through security (being an investigator of sorts did afford certain benefits), and she sprinted to the right gate, coming to a stop in the boarding line.

The flight was uneventful, although the businessman sitting next to her frequently flashed her irritated looks as she shredded every piece of paper in her bag and bounced her leg impatiently. The first two times, she flashed him a sheepish smile and tried to stop, but by the third glare from her neighbor, Emma was as irritated with him as he was with her, and she merely glared at him right back. She tried reading a magazine, tried pulling her laptop out and getting some work done, but nothing seemed to calm her nerves. At last the wheels touched down with a relatively soft bump, and Emma stared down every single person who got between her and the exit. She practically ran through the airport, dodging travellers left and right, and hailed the first cab she saw when she burst through the door. Then, once more, Emma was stuck waiting what felt like an impossible length of time as the taxi drove from Newark to an apartment building on 6th, and she didn't even care that the driver charged her a fortune for the time spent idling in traffic, not as she climbed the stairs and knocked hesitantly on the brown door with the number 15 emblazoned in gold.

There was no answer, and Emma's heart sank a little bit. She knocked again, louder, and waited, but still there was no answer. She pressed her ear to the door to try to hear any indications that someone was inside, but all she heard was silence. _Where was he? How could she possibly have beaten him back?_ She knelt by the door and lifted the corner of the welcome mat, prying off the key she knew he had taped to the center of it. Quietly, she let herself in and flicked on the lights, looking around Killian's apartment. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't gotten back from Boston yet, and she debated internally whether or not to call him or just to wait there. It seemed intrusive to wait for him in his apartment without his knowledge, but then again, she just didn't want to have this conversation on the phone. She wanted him to know in person, when he saw her there, not because he saw her name on his phone screen.

Emma made herself at home, settling in on his couch, but she couldn't manage to sit still for long. Not half an hour later, she was pacing the living room, wearing the wood thin beneath her feet, before settling down again. The anxiety must have tired her out, because not long after she had sat down again, her eyelids grew heavy, and she found herself dozing off.

Keys scraped in the door and Emma was startled awake to the sound of voices on the other side of it, and she sat up, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes and smooth her hair down. The door opened and Emma was greeted with the sight of a laughing Killian, looking behind him to where Henry stood, arm around Liam's waist, grinning from ear to ear. He turned and the bright blue eyes widened as they took her in, and he came to a sudden stop with his hand still holding onto the door.

"Swan," he said in surprise, seemingly unable to move from where he stood in the doorway.

"Emma?" she heard Henry pipe up, and she saw him craning to catch a glimpse of her.

"Liam, take Henry to pick up some pizza for dinner," Killian said, seeming to remember himself slightly as he turned and shoved a twenty dollar bill into his brother's hand.

"But Dad, I'm not –" Henry protested, but Killian fixed him with a stern glare that stopped him in his tracks. He and Liam turned to leave again, the latter waggling his eyebrows suggestively at his younger brother before closing the door.

"Hi," Emma said softly, standing from her spot on the couch.

"What are you doing here, Swan?" he asked, sounding tired and looking resigned, as though he thought she was some kind of apparition designed to cause him more pain.

"Don't you know?" she replied, stepping toward him. He looked at her with wide eyes, and she thought she saw a glimmer of hope in them, buried like he was trying to suppress it. "I missed you."

It was such a simple statement, just three small words, not even _the_ three words, but it was the only thing he needed to hear. Killian would have sworn, in that moment, that there were no other words, no other sentence, he would rather have heard coming from Emma Swan.

"You missed me," he repeated dumbly, staring at her with a newfound lightness.

"You, Henry, _us_ ," she clarified, gesturing between them with her hand, and before she knew it, his fingers were threading through her curls and his lips were pressing against hers, and there was no air left in her lungs.

"So you're back?" he asked, when he finally pulled away, his thumb and forefinger rubbing a strand of her hair as though it were pure gold.

"Yeah, I'm coming back," Emma whispered into his lips as she pressed another kiss to them.

"Good," he grinned, and it was the best feeling she could imagine, his smile as he kissed her, passing happiness back and forth between them. "You should just move in here."

"Okay." He wasn't sure she had heard him correctly at first, but when he pulled back to look at her and saw the shy smile spreading across her face, he knew she had just agreed to move into his apartment with him. "Only if Henry's okay with it though."

"He'll be thrilled," Killian assured her, and she smiled wider. "So you'll stay here tonight?"

"I have to go back to Boston tomorrow," Emma answered, and he groaned loudly, his head dropping to her shoulder as she massaged the back of his neck and his scalp with her fingers. "Just to help Ruby find a replacement, I promise. I'll be back in less than a week, I swear."

"You're sure?" She knew he wasn't so much asking if she was sure that she'd come back as whether or not sure was sure that this was what she really wanted, but it didn't matter, the answer was the same either way.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: So I know I originally told lenfaz that there would be ten chapters of this, but I think I'm going to renege on that promise and end it at this one. I can't think of another chapter that would really add to the story in a meaningful way, and I want to end on a high note, with this piece of pure fluff. Lena, I hope you've liked your gift! It's been such a pleasure getting to know you and writing for you! As always, so many thanks go out to everyone who comments/reblogs/shares/likes/reads/etc. And now, without further ado, I present you with, the last chapter!**_

* * *

 _Have I told you lately that I love you  
Have I told you there's no one else above you  
Fill my heart with gladness  
take away all my sadness  
ease my troubles that's what you do_

Emma set down the last box in the living room, dragging the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated there. She grinned tiredly at Mary Margaret and David, who had both collapsed on the couch after bringing up their boxes. Though Emma didn't think she had much stuff, a few days in Killian's apartment had confirmed that it wasn't really big enough for the three of them. So with the help of her friends and his brother, they had endeavored to move into one of the larger apartments in the other building that Killian's landlord owned. Mary Margaret and David smiled warmly, looking as tired as Emma felt, and Liam lay sprawled on the floor, putting on a show of being completely exhausted. Elsa regarded them all with a shy smile, her hand unconsciously rubbing over her growing belly (she and Liam had made the announcement a few weeks earlier). Grace and Henry laughed from where they were perched on breakfast bar, with Killian's assurances that it would be the only time they would be allowed up there, while he cooked them all some grilled cheeses. Emma looked around at all of them and knew, without a doubt, that this was what she had been missing all her life – this was her home, this was her family.

"Thanks for helping us," she said to her friends, unable to fully convey the depth of her gratitude.

"Our pleasure," Elsa replied. "Not that I really did much."

Emma didn't miss the way Mary Margaret flashed a slightly envious look at Elsa's small baby bump. She knew her friend had always wanted children, knew that David was of a similar mind, and had always assumed it was only a matter of time before they had their very own bundle of joy. Now, seeing Mary Margaret's wishful glances, Emma wondered if perhaps there was something her friend hadn't told her. Still, it made her think about her future with Killian, if maybe he wanted another kid. Emma had never thought about it seriously, never really wanted it, mostly because she though she could never be good enough for a kid. How would she even know how to be a parent when she'd never had one? But now, with Killian, it didn't seem like such a crazy idea anymore. She just couldn't shake the image of a little girl with his raven hair spiraling in curls past her own emerald eyes.

Emma was torn from her reverie by Killian's warm chuckle in her ear, realizing that he had been speaking to her while she was in her own little world.

"What was that?" she asked, her cheeks flushing bright pink.

"I offered you a grilled cheese," he grinned, eyeing her with curiosity.

"Oh," she replied, seeing the plate he was holding toward her in his good hand, and quickly picking up one of the remaining sandwiches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, love," Killian answered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

He had been more free with his affection since she returned, seemingly less afraid of scaring her off, or maybe it was just that he couldn't hold it in. Whatever the reason, since she had returned from Boston (the second time, after helping Ruby find a suitable replacement), he had been all about the small kisses and the tender touches. It surprised Emma to find that she didn't mind it at all, in fact, she often found herself wanting to return these small signs of affection, to let him know that she was equally pleased to be by his side.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice floated into her consciousness, and once more Emma found herself zoned out in the middle of the room with all eyes on her.

"Sorry?" she asked.

"I asked if there was anything else you needed help with before we head out," her friend repeated, offering Emma an inquisitive look.

"Oh, no, I don't think so." She looked at Killian, who shrugged and shook his head, before turning her attention back to her friends. "We really only have to unpack the boxes, and I'm not sure we'll do much of that this afternoon anyway. I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted. I think we'll probably just get out the bare necessities today and leave the rest until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" David asked, eyeing the stacks of boxes as though they were a large mountain. "It might be easier if we all help…"

"Nah, don't worry about it, mate," Killian joined in, giving them all a mischievous grin. "We'll just make Henry do it all, anyway. That's what sons are for, are they not?"

"Hey!" Henry piped up, making everyone laugh.

"Well, if you're sure," Mary Margaret answered, sounding hesitant.

"We're sure," Emma said, smiling. "Go home, take a nap, enjoy the rest of your day."

"We will," David replied, standing and pulling Emma into a hug.

"I think we might head out too," Liam interjected, looking at his wife and trying to gauge her mood.

"Sure," Killian answered, pulling his brother to his feet and into a rough hug.

"Thanks again," Emma said to them all as they grabbed their purses and car keys and house keys and children.

They waved their goodbyes and Emma closed the door behind them, leaning against it with a tired sigh and smiling at Henry and Killian. The former was trying to shift a particularly heavy box off another so he could get to his books, while the latter scrubbed clean the pan he had used for lunch. As Emma watched them, she was struck once more by the feeling of home that was spreading a pleasant warmth from her stomach. She slipped her arm around Killian's waist and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, knowing that he was smiling without seeing it.

"I love you," she whispered, and he twisted in her arms to capture her lips in his.

"I love you too, Emma," he answered, his breath tickling her ear.

They unpacked the bedding, moved the furniture into place, and reassembled their beds. That night, the three of them ate pizza off napkins and watched Doctor Who on Netflix. Henry fell asleep on the couch far earlier than was normal, and Killian had to carry him to his room down the hall. He and Emma made their own way to bed not long after, curling into each other on the comfortable new mattress they had bought. Killian flicked the lights off and Emma burrowed further into his side, sighing lightly at the warm feeling it gave her.

"Hey, Killian?" Emma asked in a whisper after a few minutes. "Are you awake still?"

"Aye, love, what is it?" he returned, voice a deep rumble that said he had been very close to sleep.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she inquired, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him, squinting through the darkness.

"Of course," he answered, turning his head to look at her.

"What do you think about?" He was quiet for a moment, considering the answer, and how much to tell her.

"I think about you, and Henry," Killian said simply, but Emma clearly wasn't satisfied.

"Do you think about getting married?" she pressed, her fingers plying with the edge of the blanket where it lay over his chest.

"Sure," he replied, rolling onto his side to see her better. "One day, when you're ready, when we're all ready." Emma nodded, more to herself than to him.

"What about …" she lowered her voice, almost hesitant to bring it up. But she was curious what he thought, and part of her felt that it might help her work out her own opinion on the matter. "Do you ever think about wanting another kid?" She heard his sharp intake of breath, but for once, Emma wasn't sure how to interpret it.

"I don't know, love," he admitted, shrugging as much as he could from his position. "Sometimes I think it would be nice, but I'm not sure I need it, per se. Have you thought about it?"

"I didn't use to," Emma answered, eyes focusing on her fingers instead of locking with his. "This afternoon though, I don't know. I thought it might be nice, one day. When we're all ready. But I don't need –"

"Emma," Killian breathed, effectively halting her babbling, "if it's something you think you want, then we should consider it. We can talk about all the things making this decision would entail. Alright?"

"Okay," Emma sighed, breathing out and relaxing all her muscles, not sure when she had become so tense. "When we're ready."

"Aye," he replied, his voice becoming drowsy once more.

"Goodnight, Killian," she said, feeling her own eyelids starting to grow heavy.

"Goodnight, my love," he mumbled in reply, eyes already closed, and it was only a matter of minutes before Emma heard soft snores issuing from him.

"I love you," Emma whispered, nuzzling her face closer to him and breathing him in, lulling herself to an easy sleep.

* * *

(They have a kid.

It's a girl.

She's four days older than Mary Margaret and David's son.

They're best friends.)


End file.
